


Walking Away 5: Repress, Restrain, Deny

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s01e14 Gender Bender, Episode: s07e07 Orison, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-06
Updated: 2005-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-28 04:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: "I won't follow you anymore, Scully.  I can't.Not in this." - Mulder





	Walking Away 5: Repress, Restrain, Deny

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

Repress, Restrain, Deny 

* * *

"Would a written invitation  
signed, "Choose now or lose it all,"  
sedate your hesitation?  
Or inflame and make you stall?" 

  * A Certain Shade of Green by Incubus 



"Do you, by some chance, have the Amish file we worked on several years ago? 

There are some similarities between that and this new case that I would like to go over. I can't seem to find it." 

Scully tried hard to remember the case he was talking about. 

First year. Lost in the forest. Old traditions. Sex change. Aborted sex. 

Stray brother. 

Brother Andrew. 

She flinched at that particular memory. 

"No, I don't have it." Their current case was about an old woman who died with no apparent cause of death. Only Mulder could make a connection between that and the Amish case. 

"I still have my notes on that case in my computer. I can go back and get them while you start poking at the crime scene." 

Mulder parked the car across the building where some curious neighbors have started to crowd behind the yellow tape. 

"If you still have yours, we can reconstruct the file if you really need it." she said just before opening the car door. They stepped out of the car, both of them assessing the scene of the crime from a distance. 

"No, not now. We'll see to it later. You don't need to drive all the way back to your mother's." Mulder said to her over the hood. 

Scully bit her inner cheek, hesitating before saying, "Actually the notes are at my apartment. I moved back yesterday." She made sure that her voice was casual, her eyes slightly moving around the scene of the crime to create the illusion that her return to her apartment weeks after Donnie Pfaster broke into her home was not monumental. 

She didn't like it when she read books that would phrase, "and she could feel his eyes on her." It's not as if there's a lot of alternative ways to write it, but it gave her a creepy image of a giant eyeball hovering behind her head. 

But that was exactly how it felt at that moment. 

She braced herself for any kind of reaction from Mulder however subtle it may be. He has a way of making a staggering impact using the fewest possible words. She sucked in her breath, waited, and then finally turned her head towards him. 

Mulder had already walked ahead of her like she didn't say anything at all. 

She had never felt so stupid and self-important in her life. 

* * *

Should she be surprised at Mulder's non-reaction? She guessed not. It was of her doing anyway. 

The following events after California went from bad, and after Pfaster, to so much worse. She only felt the repercussions of every bad decision a day or two after. It was too late to do anything by then and the ripples just went on and on. The waves were never too far apart and strong enough to shake her foundation, threatening her from being swept away. She didn't know how long she could keep her feet firm on the ground. 

After the police had finished questioning Scully the night she shot Pfaster, Mulder had assumed that she would be staying over at his place for the meantime while every shuddering evidence of Pfaster was being removed from her apartment. He didn't offer, she just knew he thought he had a say to where she'd be staying. 

Over-protective? Mulder was worse than a lioness that had just given birth. 

Scully had waited anxiously until Mulder had finished loading the trunk with her clothes and other basic necessities to break his stride. 

"Can you take me to my mother's?" 

Having settled himself in the driver's seat and determined to proceed with his own plans for full Scully recovery and security, her request almost didn't penetrate his overprotective mode. He cocked his head like a dog hearing a strange sound from afar. 

"You don't have to tell your mother what happened now. You need to rest. You can call her when we get to my apartment." 

Scully assumed right after all. She wasn't sure if knowing your partner so well was a blessing or a curse. 

"Yes, I'm - I'm tired and I do need rest -" 

"So we'll call your mom after you've gotten some sleep." Mulder probably wasn't aware how condescending he sounded. The fact he used 'we' was all the more infuriating. 

"Mulder, my mother isn't home. She's visiting Bill." 

He slowed at the red light. "Then why do you want to drop by your mother's?" 

Dense Mulder, dense. Scully desperately wanted to sigh in exasperation. 

"Because that's where I'm staying." 

Mulder turned his head slowly to face her. Scully's hair stood on end and bit her tongue from saying something nasty as Mulder swore loudly without opening his mouth. 

The profanity hurt her eyes and offended her mind. She looked away and focused her attention on the intersection ahead. She waited for the auditory outburst, counting silently up to three. 

It didn't come. Instead, Mulder turned left at the intersection, steering the car to the direction of her mother's house. 

Restraint. Mulder has been very good at that ever since they parted in California. 

Before Pfaster, he had never settled with her perfunctory 'I'm fines.' To save him from the trouble now, he rarely asked her anymore. 

Scully didn't know if she'd be insulted or relieved. He seemed to be mimicking her actions, mocking her by throwing back the same repressed anger she always shouldered after they had a dispute. But then again, if he was extending the same frustrating courtesy, it meant they would be pretending once again that nothing happened. It may be wrong, but that was one thing she knew how to handle, leaving things up in the air. 

No one said a word the entire ride to her mother's. They've been at odds for so long, they had grown weary of spitting the same arguments that they knew wouldn't change anything. She would still be calm and stubborn while he would still be loud and stubborn. Scully, the rock. Mulder, the pounding sea. 

When he slowed down in front of her mother's house, Scully took her time getting out. Maybe she was still waiting for Mulder's tantrum, she didn't know. What seemed a reasonable decision before seemed unwise now, as she looked hard at her mother's home. 

She jumped when she heard Mulder's car door slam shut. She watched him go to the back of his car to get her things without so much a word to her. She let herself out, slow in joining him in front of his trunk to help get the rest of her stuff. 

Mulder made it to the front door before she could even close the trunk. He waited for her without putting the luggage down, deliberately providing her with his profile so that he could rest his eyes anywhere at her right and never directly at her. She hesitated for a moment, an uncomfortable second considering her physical condition, before she joined him there. 

Scully had always thought her mother's home as hers as well. This was a place where she can still be 12 years old if she wanted to and her mother wouldn't mind. But it didn't really matter if her mother was there or not. It was comfortable. It was warm. It was safe. 

It astounded her how empty it felt when she walked inside. So empty that she could almost hear the echo when she dropped her bags. 

"Are you sure you're okay, Scully?" 

She turned around to find Mulder watching her closely. Apparently, she paused a second too long. 

His eyes dared her to lie and she wanted to wipe that look off his face with her fist. 

'Are you angry, Mulder? Are you terrified?' she wanted to ask. 

'Imagine being tied inside your closet and being thrown around the room. Try imagining your own home become the most terrifying place in the world. Imagine your privacy being invaded in the cruelest, most horrific way. Imagine fighting with everything you've got and if you hadn't shot him, it wouldn't have been enough.' 

Her eyes almost watered in contained fury, lingering shock, and terror. 

Almost. 

"I'll be fine, Mulder." she said with forced calmness. "Thanks for...well, for giving me a ride." She gestured awkwardly towards the phone. "I'm just going to call mom." 

It's not a question if it was anger or cowardice that made her decide to keep Mulder at arm's length. She was afraid of both pushing him further away and weeping on his shirt. Breaking down in front of Mulder just terrified her more. 

She tried hard to keep her eyes from stinging, taking deep breaths as she went to the phone. 

When she looked back at Mulder, he was already gone. 

* * *

When she came back from California, they had resumed their usual work routine. 

Of course it was strained. Both of them would rather die than dare broaching whatever happened in California. Focusing on their work was a distraction that they welcomed all too eagerly. 

But work was work. Any professional would thrive in that environment. Simply give them an X-File and they would get on it without batting an eye. Anything beyond that was more than questionable. Give them an hour of nothing, let's say a lunch break, and it would be embarrassingly awkward. 

This was why she now sat by herself on the bench, pretending to enjoy her turkey sandwich. She wondered if she would ever get used to eating lunch alone on a work day. 

One would think that the California incident would be pushed to a distant memory after Pfaster happened to her for the second time. It undoubtedly fell under 'extreme physical and emotional distress' category of their partnership, and it should've been a time to reaffirm what they really were to each other. 

That despite everything they've fought, anguished and secretly cried over, this most recent trauma should've been a blessing in disguise. A chance to reassure themselves that no matter how bad it had become between them, they were still each other's touchstones. Solid. Unbreakable. 

But it didn't. 

Ever since she came back to work since Pfaster, she and Mulder had lunch together twice. They were in the middle of an out of town case and finding an excuse to not eat with her was just too rude. 

And that was just one of a lot more things they had stopped doing together. 

And who was to blame for this? 

She looked down on her barely eaten sandwich, preferring to chew on her lip rather than the bread. 

How long would she keep beating herself about this, she didn't know. She didn't deny her faults. After helplessly watching the small hole in their partnership rapidly become a wide tear, she had to know that her insecurity and fear inflamed their situation further. 

But it would've been easier for her to try fixing it, if only she didn't believe the blame didn't solely rest on her shoulders. 

Her eyes fell on her wrist, light scars serving as undeniable proof that the nightmare actually happened. She could always pretend it didn't. An expert on denial, she could just close her eyes and picture herself that day as she came home exhausted, changing immediately for bed, and then sleeping for three weeks straight. She'd wake up and her home would be intact and she'd remain untouched. Unharmed. 

But she couldn't just blink away her wounds. She had one serious gash on her back, peppered by smaller cuts and some bruises around it. Her wounds still looked painfully ugly no matter how fast they healed so she couldn't really say she was getting better. 

And although the scars were fading away, Pfaster had left a deep wound within her like he snuck one sure thrust square on her chest. That took longer to heal. With Mulder so far out of her reach, she had no one to help her stop the bleeding. She had never felt so tired doing nothing and letting the silence continue. 

Something cold fell on her knuckle. Something wet. 

She looked up to see if it was raining but the sky was clear. A gust of wind blew against the side of her face and she felt the cold streak on her cheek. 

"Agent Scully?" Her head snapped up. 

"Are you all right?" 

She didn't answer immediately, wondering why Frohike was there. 

"I'm...fine." she answered, her eyebrows coming together. 

"I can see that." He nodded to her face. 

Her hand came up and passed across her cheek quickly in embarrassment. Frohike looked away, feeling as awkward. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked, finally summoning enough nerve to look back at him. 

Frohike fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. 

"I was supposed to meet a contact." Odd. How very Mulder, she thought. 

He cleared his throat. "He must've changed his mind." 

He hesitated before sitting down beside her. His eyes flitted everywhere before they settled on her face. Paranoid to the bone. 

"So...where's Mulder?" 

She looked away and stared straight ahead. "Probably having lunch." 

'Somewhere else,' she didn't add. She sensed Frohike was waiting for more but she remained silent. She really didn't know where he was anyway. 

"Well," Frohike said after realizing he won't be getting more out of her. "Uh, shouldn't you be heading back to Hoover?" 

She checked her watch. 1:10 pm. Yes actually, she should. "No, I'll just...later. I'll go in a while." 

"Are you sure? I brought the van. I can give you a lift..." 

"No, it's okay. I have my own ride." 

Frohike checked his own watch as well. "How much longer will you be staying?" he asked. 

"Just a-" she stopped. That seemed rather strange of him to ask. What was it to him if she was going to be late for work? She watched Frohike wait anxiously for her answer. 

Something was up. 

Before she could open her mouth, her cellphone rang. Startled, it took a second ring before she reached for it. She checked the name displayed. She frowned. There was none. 

On the third ring, she gestured to Frohike. "It's yours." 

"Oh." he said but didn't reach for his phone. He chewed on his lip like he was trying to decide something. Her eyebrow rose slowly. 

"Aren't you going to answer that? Might be your contact." His shoulder twitched, hesitating. 

Taking a deep breath, he finally stuck his hand inside his coat. 

"Yeah." he answered, his eyes watching his feet. "Take it easy, man." he chastised the caller. Then he looked back up at her. He watched her while he seemed to think about what or how to answer whatever the caller asked. His eyes dropped back down to the ground. "She's fine." 

What? 

"She's just running a little late...I think." he winced. Frohike refused to face her yet. "Okay. Right." Then he ended the call. 

When he finally had the nerve to look up, he swallowed hard when he saw the expression on her face. 

"Care to enlighten me what that was about?" she asked, her voice one dangerous tone lower. 

He shifted, fidgeted, sighed and looked nervously around, but he didn't answer her. 

"I'm waiting Frohike." Her voice was now vaguely threatening. 

"Well, can you wait a little longer?" he lamely joked. Scully's lips didn't even quiver. Frohike's hand passed over his mouth, his chin, and then at the back of his neck. 

"We-uh, we've been keeping tabs on you." Frohike mumbled. 

"We?" she asked. 

"The guys." 'Who else?' she thought. 

"Wha-Why?" she demanded. 

He paused before answering. "Because Mulder asked us to." 

Again, WHAT? 

Her mouth should've dropped open but she didn't usually gape, so she just stared in disbelief. 

"After that death fetishist case, he asked us to keep an eye on you." 

Scully knew he was still not saying everything, so she waited. Frohike sighed. 

"We asked Mulder why, Agent Scully. He said he just wanted to make sure you're safe." 

"Yes," he said before she could protest. "We knew that wasn't valid enough reason knowing how you'd feel about it if you found out and that you _are_ more than capable of taking care of yourself, but," he scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "We let that reason fly." 

Scully didn't know if she would take her anger out on Frohike and punch him right then. 

"I know Agent Scully." he said, holding up his hand before she could have her say. "Believe me, I know you're ready to shoot me. But you know us. We're more paranoid than Mulder. And we take your safety seriously." 

She did know that. She knew they meant well, but that didn't mean she accepted it, that she couldn't be furious about it. She dropped back down on the bench, not sure whether to cry or scream. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frohike sit down carefully beside her. 

"I'm sorry." he said. She closed her eyes and counted up to five. 

"Agent Scully, I don't mean to intervene," Right. Like stalking her isn't a breach of privacy. 

"But what is happening between you and Mulder?" 

Nothing _is_ happening. Absolutely nothing. 

She was still digesting the fact that her privacy has been violated once again by the people closest to her and she didn't give a f--k what Frohike wanted to know. She faced him, ready to say just that but stopped herself when she saw his expression. 

Earnest. Genuinely concerned. 

She looked away feeling unfairly manipulated. 

"What has Mulder told you?" was all she asked. 

"Nothing." Good for him. 

"But come on, Agent Scully. Give us some credit. We're not blind." 

She never thought they were. She and Mulder seemed to be the ones who have lost their eyesight. On purpose. 

"We've rarely seen you together. Only one of you would drop by when you need our help. And you're eating lunch alone on a Tuesday," he gestured at her remaining sandwich. 

"And you're crying." he added softly. She cringed. 

Damnit. She didn't even know she was crying until Frohike showed up. One of the rare times she cried and someone else just had to bear witness. 

"Nothing's going on Frohike." 

Of course he didn't buy it. He took a moment before speaking, unsure how she'd take his words. "When you say that, are you trying to convince yourself?" 

"Look," She stood up, already had had enough being stalked, cornered and grilled by a paranoid hacker and now counselor wannabe. "It's complicated." 

"When has it ever been simple between the two of you?" 

She shook her head. She refused to continue talking about this. 

"I have to go back to the office." She turned to go without so much as a goodbye. 

"Agent Scully," Frohike called out after several paces. She paused, dreading to face him again. 

"What did Mulder do that was so unforgivable?" 

The question made her freeze, catching her off guard. 

It felt like Frohike just pitched a fastball straight to her chest. 

Did she really feel that? 

But what was unforgivable? That in the truest sense, she was not what he wanted or that he settled for a close second and thought that it was good enough. 

"There's nothing to apologize for, Frohike." 

It wasn't Mulder's fault that he felt that way. And no one can blame her if she wasn't built to accept being good enough. 

She turned slightly, ready to go but then paused, her eyes looking past Frohike, her mind even farther away. "Don't tell Mulder that I know about you guys." 

"What are you going to do now?" That caused her to look straight at him. 

After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders lightly, like they were too heavy to move. 

"Maybe nothing." 

* * *

She jumped when a horn blasted impatiently from behind her, causing her to step on the gas too suddenly, jolting the car forward. 

She was driving too slowly and wasn't paying attention to traffic lights either. Everytime she encountered a red light, she would breathe a little easier, providing small relief for stalling her. But stalling only slowed her down, it didn't stop her. It was as if she was waiting for something to keep her from reaching Mulder's apartment. 

But nothing did. She'd eventually be there soon. 

It was the second time she stood by his door, poised to knock, heart on her throat, yet dying to run the hell away before Mulder could swing the wooden door open. She tamped down her fear, knocked, and held her breath. 

That he was surprised to see her was an understatement, and it took him a moment to find his voice. "What are you doing here, Scully?" he asked warily. 

"May I come in?" 

She didn't know how four short words can be so charged and dreadful. He just stood there and stared, enough to make her seriously think that he would refuse her. If that happened, she couldn't imagine how irrepairable the damage would be. 

After a long, suspenseful couple of seconds, he finally stepped back to let her in. She exhaled. 

She was not planning to stay long so she left her coat on. If things get worse, she didn't want any delay if she needed to get out of there. She jammed her cold fists in her pockets, hiding any obvious tension she's feeling, however futile that was. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then turned to face Mulder. 

She found him frowning at the phone, obviously tense himself. Even angry. 

"Cut the guys some slack, Mulder. I told them not to tell you." 

His eyes switched slowly from the phone to her face, trying to find out if she was angry and how much trouble he was in. Beyond work, they rarely talked anymore so Scully had to resort to watching his face carefully to guess what he was feeling. At work, their eyes usually lingered on each other before they turned away and resumed to their tasks at hand. 

They were watching each other intently now like sizing up the opponent right before battle. She was surprised to see his eyes turn from defensive to chilly arrogance, like he believed that his actions were justifiable, that he believed he didn't do anything wrong. Her eyes almost watered and her head throbbed as she tried to keep herself from being absolutely livid. 

She almost wanted to just knee him right then for such appalling behavior, for the f--kng nerve, for making things so much harder than it already is. 

Almost, but she didn't. 

She unclenched her fists. 

"Mulder-" Her hand raised in weary exasperation. "Why did you have me trailed?" 

She didn't know if he was stalling or just didn't like seeing her so drained. 

He looked away and walked past her to seek refuge in his unlit living room like he can find his answer in the darkness. Or was it just easier to say it in the dark? 

"You did not give me a choice." 

"You had no right." she said through her teeth. 

"And I'm supposed to watch your back." He barked back. Yes, he still thought there was nothing to apologize for. 

"Mulder," She tried to control her voice. "You have to wait till I ask if I needed help." 

"Oh see, there's the crux of the matter, isn't it? When have you ever asked?" 

When she didn't have an immediate answer, he continued, his voice rising. "You didn't ask me to stay with you at your mother's at least until she came back from her visit with Bill. You didn't ask whenever you were in some pain when we were out on the field. Nevermind that it has just been a week since you were practically thrown around by a psychopath. You just grit your teeth and say absolutely nothing. You didn't ask if you needed help moving back to your apartment." 

He was practically shouting at her now. "So excuse the hell out of me if I'm not contented with painful silence and your default "I'm fine" answer." 

His apartment seemed too still and even darker after his outburst. 

"What I just-" she paused, trying to keep her voice from breaking, taking a couple of short breaths. "What's so hard to accept was that you'd do something like this after someone I believed was evil broke into my apartment, who invaded my privacy-" She had to stop. She couldn't talk straight and try keeping her eyes dry at the same time. 

Silence reigned again, filling the void that stretched between them, pushing them apart even when they were standing still, making the five step space between them a mile long difference. 

How can two people who can come together and find a way to save themselves from a giant mushroom-induced stupor, barely understand each other when they're fully conscious and not in any grave danger? Why must the world first fall apart before they can dare reach out and salvage whatever that was broken by the trauma? Why was it such a gamble to simply say what was needed to be said? 

She almost wished one of them were bleeding. Maybe then, something will get resolved. 

But then, she's gone through that, hasn't she? She's been badly beaten by a madman less than a month ago and now things were so much worse. 

"I'm sorry." She almost didn't hear it and had to look up. She could barely see his face but she trusted her instincts that he did say it, and that it was genuine. 

She nodded imperceptibly, practically to herself. Her turn. 

"Me too." She took a deep breath. "Will you leave me alone if I promise that I'll answer as honestly as I can when you ask about me?" That actually meant she'd try elaborating her 'I'm fine.' It's a start at least. 

He nodded. "How are you?" he asked quietly, immediately calling her on it. 

She had to take her time answering. "I'm...coping. It was initially hard going back home." She dropped her head, not risking looking him in the eye. 

"But really, I'm doing fine. Occasional nightmares, but," she stopped, surprised from the slip of information. She shrugged. "they're fading." 

Something slid down her arm and enclosed her hand. Scully was surprised how close Mulder have gotten. She watched his thumb slowly rub the back of her hand, his entire hand effectively bringing heat and feeling on her previously ice cold one. It was soothing. Comforting. 

She looked up then and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm really doing fine, Mulder." 

She squeezed his hand back for emphasis before she pulled away. "Good night." 

When she turned away to leave, relief settled over her, appeasing her that she somehow achieved what she set out for, infusing some faith back to their partnership. 

Until he spoke with a voice unexpectedly tight, it made her freeze in the act of reaching for the doorknob. 

"Was that all you came for?" 

She carefully turned around to face him once again, frantically shielding her budding hope from being wilted away. 

Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness and she could now see his expression, strikingly darker than his surroundings. His eyes scared her the most. Cold. Unblinking. 

The recent truce was apparently temporary. 

She refused to give in to her fear. "What do you mea-" 

"So we pretend California never happened?" He cut her off. 

She went absolutely rigid. She came here to confront Mulder about his upsetting behavior of having her trailed, of his inexcusable breach of her privacy. She came here to try to turn things around after Pfaster. Amazingly enough, she had done that and she should be able to go home with a clearer conscience. 

She was not ready to talk about California. 

Scully put all her energy to staying calm. "What is there to talk about?" 

If he wanted to hash this out, she'd let him do all the talking. 

She watched him scrutinize her, probably trying to see how far he can push her. 

He shook his head and broke eye contact, shifting his gaze from her to his feet, his hands squeezing his hips. 

"Don't worry, Scully. I'm not-" his voice broke off, and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I'm not going to press you anymore. I just want to end this." 

End? End what? 

"After California, after Donnie Pfaster, I just realized that things would not change. I thought things eventually would. I thought you wanted it as much as I did, only that you were just more... reluctant." 

He raised his face then and stood up straighter, strengthening his resolve. 

She would've believed it if only she didn't see that his eyes were off the mark, staring somewhere behind her. 

She had never seen him struggle this hard, suppressing anger, frustration and so much sadness. Then his shoulders sagged and his eyes were shockingly tortured. She wanted to look away, but they were rarely openly painful that she couldn't even blink. 

"How could you ask that question?" His eyebrows had crinkled together, still trying to maintain control. It was almost unbearable to watch. 

"How could I not?" was as painful an answer to his question. "And you left me with an answer anyway." 

His dark hazels went from tortured to stone cold and the hair at the back of her neck acknowledged the change. 

"I never gave you an answer." 

She almost stepped back but she stood her ground. "Your answer was written all over your face, Mulder. I know what I saw." 

"And what exactly did you see?" 

That she didn't hold a candle to his former partner. To his past. Her mind screamed the accusation but her lips didn't move. 

He waited for her answer, his jaw so rigidly set that her own ached at the sight. 

"How could you know my answer when you never gave me a chance. You walked away, Scully. _You_ left *me." 

"If I thought wrong, you didn't make me see otherwise. I'm not the only one who walked away, Mulder." 

They stared at each other through the darkness, both trying to figure out their arguments as their fight progressed. 

Then Mulder backed up against his desk, sagging away and losing steam. 

"Because I can't keep following you." His hands gripped the edge of his desk like he needed something to hold himself together. Like it was the only thing he can hold on to. 

"I never asked you to." she whispered, surprised to see him looking defeated. 

He raised his head slowly, like it weighed more than it should. Like the way a severely battered man would, when the person who held the bloodied stick demanded him to. 

"But I did, didn't I?" He gave her a sad smile, the corner of his mouth barely rising. "Couldn't stop myself." 

Silence. 

Both were waiting where the conversation would lead, at a loss on how to finish it. When the suffocating stillness went too long, Mulder took it upon himself to make the decision for them. 

"I won't follow you anymore, Scully. I can't. Not in this." 

And she couldn't say anything to that. Yet. 

It didn't register at first until something slowly squeezed her chest, wrenching tighter and tighter until it became harder to breathe. Her vision blurred and she blinked furiously to clear it. The more she repeated his words in her head, the more it sounded harshly final. 

This was what she waited for wasn't it? This was what she had wanted and expected to happen, wasn't it? 

Then why did it feel like someone was gripping her heart with nails biting so hard? 

If she left his apartment right then, if she accepted Mulder's words, there would be no going back. No second chances. The extreme possibility would become absolute impossibility. 

She only realized that she had moved until she could feel the heat coming off Mulder's body. His eyes followed her progress, wide as saucers, and she tried not to drown in them. He looked terrified and that gave her some courage. He wasn't the only one. 

She closed her eyes, leaned upward and touched her lips to his. 

After a moment, she leaned her head back just enough for their noses not to touch, carefully gauging his reaction. His eyes were still wide open, his face expressionless. 

She swallowed and pressed her lips to his once again without closing her eyes as well. She felt like she was jumping off a cliff, only remembering to pray for wings when her feet had already left the ground. 

Scully's pulse quickened when she felt his hands on her arms. She opened her lips just a little more. Mulder's hands gripped her arms almost painfully, and she slowly shut her eyes. 

All too suddenly, she was being pushed away, her eyes flying open to find Mulder holding her at arm's length. She was frozen in place, unable to move with Mulder holding her like something he wanted to break. He looked dangerous, looked so frighteningly angry that she thought he would hit her. 

For a long, agonizing second, she held her breath and waited. Then Mulder released her upper arms and stepped away. He hesitated after a few tentative steps, watching his own feet move, then stood straight and went for his door. 

He was leaving. 

She felt she was physically beaten all the same. It was like Pfaster all over again, only it was her heart that was being thrown across the room and it was Mulder who beat it to a pulp. 

Scully was not familiar with being rejected. Ignorance was indeed bliss. 

Sudden awareness was severe agony. Ruthless. So cruel. 

Her mind and body slowly grew numb with every step that took Mulder farther away. 

"Don't leave." she said before he could touch the doorknob. This was his apartment. If he couldn't stand to be in the same room with her, she should be the one leaving. "I'll go." 

She moved fast, wanting to get as far away from Mulder as possible even when the worst has already happened and humiliation was inescapable. 

It didn't matter that Mulder was still at the door. She just wanted to get out of there and she only had to reach around him to open it. But something warm and firm slapped down on her hand, grasping it with the doorknob. She went rigid at his firm hold and watched his other hand turn the lock. 

When she dared to look up, she had a sudden urge to jerk away at Mulder's expression. He looked dangerous once again. Dangerous in a different way. 

"You can't walk away from me again, Scully." He pulled her hand from the doorknob but did not let it go. "Not after that." 

* * *

It took about fifteen minutes for Mulder to realize she wasn't in bed with him. 

She heard his feet land hard on the floor. She winced. That must've hurt. 

Bare feet scrambled their way to the bedroom door and then abruptly stopped. 

He must've found her. 

She was sitting at his kitchen table, leaning over his dayold newspaper while she sipped coffee that was just a tad too bitter for her liking. She didn't look up, just continued to pretend reading the second page news. 

She thought she heard him exhale his breath, but she wasn't sure since she was trying hard not to acknowledge his presence. Her finger worried the edge of the paper, waiting for what Mulder would do next. 

"Are you leaving?" She caught her flinch when she heard how close his voice was. 

She looked up then, finding him standing guard between his kitchen and the living room. His eyebrows met at an angry point and his arms were folded against his chest, like a father who was about to reprimand his daughter. 

"We still have work later, Mulder. I have to go home." She said calmly, just before another sip of coffee. 

Her answer was reasonable but not the one he was looking for. She knew he was asking a different question. 

He pulled out a chair right across from her. "You know what I'm asking." he said, starting to get angry. Someone once told her that it was better to mess with some drunk than to mess with someone who had just woken up. 

She didn't say anything. 

She couldn't. 

"Damnit Scully! You came to me. _You_ kissed _me._ " he burst out angrily. 

She knew what he was accusing. She did make a decision last night. She just didn't know if it was the right one. 

"I'm sorry." was all she could say back, trying not to squirm. 

"No, don't be sorry!" His fist hit the table hard, almost spilling the coffee as the cup clattered and wobbled weakly. 

He covered his face with his hand, rubbing his eyes then held his head with his palms on his forehead and fingers halfway combing through his hair. "God, don't be sorry." he said to the table, his eyes closed as if praying she wasn't there. 

She sympathized with him, knowing how frustrating it all was. God, she wished she wasn't there either. She wanted to become invisible, but had to settle for making herself as small as possible. 

She was bracing for another fight, but was surprised when she felt him reach for the hand that was fiddling with the paper and held it gently with his. The tingling sensation that she had felt occasionally from Mulder after she came back from Africa started once again, the heat spreading from her fingers and creeping its way up her arm. She didn't know if she wanted to pull away or turn her palm up and return the gesture. 

"Tell me what's wrong, Scully." Then he held her hand tighter. "Is this still about Diana?" 

What if it still was? 

Her hand fisted under his and Mulder's hand gripped hers even tighter, anticipating that she'd pull away. Scully couldn't match his strength so she didn't even try, but she didn't unfold her fingers either. 

"You still haven't answered my question." she whispered. She felt so naked saying it. She didn't have the strength to keep herself composed anymore. Her eyes would probably stay dry, but crying didn't only come in the form of tears. 

"I still can't understand how you can keep asking me that." She didn't know if he was trying to control his anger as she watched his thumb and forefinger pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"I have a lot of reasons to doubt, Mulder." 

He pulled his hand away from his face and stared at her for a moment. Then he leaned forward, pulling the hand he still held closer to him, making sure that she had her undivided attention. 

"That night...that first night, I was so scared that when you asked me to leave, I was sure we made a mistake and just left. Diana and I had already set up lunch before that night happened, and I would have cancelled if you had asked me to stay. You did ask me to leave, Scully." 

She lowered her eyes. She did. 

"And we were still friends after our relationship ended. You know how it goes, Scully. You were still friends with Jack. You still talk to Ethan now and then, don't you?" 

She didn't want to know how he knew that, but he was right. 

"I know I acted like an ass when you had suspicions of Diana when we were at the Gunmen's but, god, how many times must I apologize for it?" 

"It's not just about that, Mulder." 

"Then tell me what it is." He urged, his hands shaking her own desperately. 

She didn't know exactly how she'd be able to explain it. The feeling that she was being built up for something else, seeing her for someone else. Someone he wanted her to be. 

"I'm not Diana, Mulder." 

That silenced him for a moment. He frowned at her words. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I asked you if Diana hadn't died, if you would still have wanted us to be together. You couldn't answer, Mulder." She paused, summoning the spare courage that she had to tell him. 

"Like you couldn't answer now." She stared straight at him. Eyeball to eyeball. "Because the answer is you wouldn't. _We_ wouldn't have...happened." 

"I can't fill in the shoes for someone you still want to be with." 

She had convinced herself that she was above the tears, figuring that finally laying that out in the open wouldn't be heartbreaking enough. 

Guess she was wrong. 

Scully didn't notice that Mulder had released her hand when she leaned forward on her folded arms while she focused on keeping her eyes dry. Wiping them would be obvious so she didn't resort to that. She used to have the method of forcing back tears down pat, but it wasn't working now. Her vision kept blurring no matter how much she paced her breathing and furiously blinked back the wetness. 

She went rigid when she felt Mulder's warmth on her right. He had pulled out a chair beside her, his left leg going around the back of her chair and his right sliding beside hers. If she wasn't sitting on her own chair, he would practically envelope her. 

If it were just body heat, it wouldn't have bothered her. Much. 

But a wave of warmth started from the entire right part of her body, spreading to the rest of her left. She gasped when a deeper heat covered her stomach. Her eyes dropped down and she found Mulder's hand in front of her hastily buttoned blouse. Not touching. Just hovering. 

"You feel that don't you?" Mulder whispered behind her ear, his head inches above her shoulder. She tried to contain her shiver, staying as still as possible. 

"How could you think I'd want her more than you?" His voice was neither angry nor frustrated like it had been a moment ago. It was calm and surprisingly bold. 

"Besides being my partner, she can't possibly compare." 

He watched her, waiting for a reaction. None yet. 

"It took me a year to tell her about Samantha. Did you know that? I told you in our first case together. When she left, it hurt but I didn't follow and I moved on. When I lost you for 3 months, I sent a letter of resignation to the Asst. Director." 

She felt uncomfortable. Scully didn't expect him to enumerate, to literally compare her to Diana. 

Mulder continued. "I have chosen you over my sister, Scully. Twice. Exchanging her for you on the bridge and when I thought I was losing you to cancer." 

Her heart seemed to stop as her mind tried to take in this bit of information. 

She hadn't known that. 

"Diana left for a job out of the country and I let her be. You were taken again and I raced to get you eventhough there was more than a chance that we'd die buried under the snow at the edge of the world. I was dying, having the most vivid and enticing dream, but it still felt wrong because I couldn't find you there. And when you came, you were the only one who was angry with me. You were the first to outright hurt me. Yet it was a hundred times better than your absence." 

He leaned closer, his mouth mere millimeters from her ear. "How could you think I'd still want her when at the end of the day, the last thing I think of is that you're alive, you're safe and that I may have one more chance." 

His last words were barely over a whisper but it resounded loudly within her, just enough to break her worn restraint for one moment and for one tear to escape. 

Without bothering to wipe it, she raised her eyes to his to see a man so thirsty and hungry, struggling so hard not to dive for the banquet spread before him. 

This was a man who would go to hell and back for her in a blink of an eye. How could she ever have doubted? 

She was so tired of constantly staying far away and she couldn't stop herself from leaning forward, brushing her nose with his before settling her forehead against his. She closed her eyes and let herself finally fall. 

Surrender. 

Who needed wings when you had Mulder? 

Scully felt Mulder wipe the single wet track with his thumb as they both breathed each other in. 

"What if this doesn't work out?" she whispered. 

"Why won't it?" he asked back. 

She leaned back and Mulder slid his arm under her shirt to hold on to her waist, making sure she doesn't go too far. 

"You seem so sure." she said to him, watching his eyes intently. Maybe trying to reassure herself as well. 

He watched as her eyes alternated from blue green to luminous blue and back. He shook his head to break the trance and to answer her question. 

"I'm terrified." He tucked a stray red lock behind her ear. "I just love you more." 

She didn't mean to freeze at his words, but she did and Mulder held her even tighter. He leaned forward, tilting his head and paused an inch away from her lips. Then he passed it, continuing on until he reached her ear. 

"Scary isn't it?" 

Jaw-droppingly so. 

"Try being the one saying it." And she visibly relaxed, finally seeing that she wasn't the only one feeling her way through this. 

Scully slowly turned back to her cold coffee and the practically untouched newspaper, wondering what would happen next, wondering what else would change. 

She hadn't moved to leave yet, so Mulder took advantage and rested his lips on her shoulder to wait for her. Always waiting for her. 

"So what now?" Scully asked as she leaned her head against his, watching her hand back to fiddling the edge of the newspaper. Mulder raised his lips just enough for his chin to take its place. 

"You finish your coffee and we'll see." 

She glanced at her coffee then turned her head to look at him. "My coffee's gone cold." 

She felt Mulder's thumb rub circles on her belly and it tightened in anticipation. "Then come back to bed." 

Mulder's mouth was on hers before she could give him a reason not to stay. 

When he finally released her lips, she had yet to come up with one. 

* * *

END Repress, Restrain, Deny

Author's note: It's finally finished. 

I would like to apologize for taking so long to post this. To those who have written feedback throughout the series, I can't think of any way else to express my appreciation but to say thanks. To the people at the Haven and to those who sent messages asking about the next chapter, I wouldn't have finished this without your pokes and encouragement. 

You rock my world. 

Thank you for letting me share a piece of my X-Files insanity. :)

#### If you enjoyed this story, please feed the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title: **Walking Away 5: Repress, Restrain, Deny**  
Author: ScamBeliever  
Details: 44k  ·  PG-13  ·  Series  ·  06/06/05  ·   Email/Website      
Gossamer Category(Keywords): Story   [Romance, Angst]     
Characters: M/S     
Pairings: Mulder/Scully romance   
SPOILERS: Gender Bender, Orison   
SEQUEL TO:  Walking Away 4: Passing Torches   
SUMMARY: "I won't follow you anymore, Scully. I can't.   
Not in this." - Mulder 


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